I am NOT just a girl to protect
by Gavorchesan
Summary: Sayuriama Senju is beautiful, wealthy, and sister to the most powerful Shinobi in the world. With everything at her fingertips, she finally discovers the one thing she can not have; A dark-eyed Uchiha who refuses to play by the rules.
1. Scroll 1

The morning sun was just peeking above the far blue mountain range, though weak through the heavy gray clouds that obscured most of the sky. Spring was always like this, in this part of the Land of Fire.

Hashirama Senju was standing his brother Tobirama, both of their backs facing the tall wooden gates behind them, the main entrance into The Village Hidden in the Leaves. The morning was wet, and the constant drizzle threatened to soak through their warm clothes, but neither seemed bothered. Their clothes, while of fine quality, were already worn from years of wear.

They were determined It was going to be a good day despite his experience telling him to be wary of good things.

It would have been rather comedic for any other ninja to see them hanging around like wet cats instead of using a jutsu to avoid the hassle. Hashirama smiled as he watched Tobirama's brush raindrops out of his white hair, ignoring the fact it was plastered to the metal headband he always wore and did nothing. He shook his own hair, tossing the drizzle off, glancing back to the gates behind them.

Hashirama noted it with a pang that their deceased mother had given it to him. It's no mystery why some of his worst memories tended to bubble up during these moments.

As the older brother, Hashirama glanced towards his junior sibling. It was half instinct, half concern. Tobirama rarely was the type to fidget, the more serious and calm of the two. But today he was worried. His dark eyes, a rare sort of purple that leaned towards crimson were busy scanning the area, deep rivets from lack of sleep appearing. A clear sign of worry. Another glance back to the gate also revealed distrust of the guard there. Not surprising, Hashirama noted, an Uchiha.

But Hashirama did not break his own, constant look of contentment, a marked contrast to the near-permanent frown etched on his younger brother.  
It would have been better for them to wait inside the makeshift gates, but at heart, they were still two boys with no patience.

Exactly how long had it been? Five years? No, far longer. He tilted his head, musing about other things. It had been years since they had spoken face to face.

Nine years, seven months, three weeks, two days and eight hours.

Nine enduring years since they had been forced to leave their young sister in the care of their allies and cousins, the Uzumaki Clan. Five years since he had turned away as she watched him leave her at the gates of The Village Hidden in the Whirlpools.

The memory of her angry face gazing at him was burned into his mind. Guilt filled him, but was kept in check was a necessity. The shinobi world was no place for her.

He wrote what he could but it was still not enough, and even Tobirama's ability to communicate was limited in the same manner. Too much was at risk, their enemies numerous, to send more. It was a miracle enemy clan had never intercepted a letter or gained intelligence of the last Senju sibling. There could be no indication she existed, no direct link to them, or no doubt she would be kidnapped and suffer a horrible fate. With two of the three Senju siblings dead, he didn't dare take a misstep or reveal her to an enemy clan.

Even with the few messages they had managed to exchange, it was impossible to know who their sister had become.

If she would like the village they had made.

But with the treaty between the Uchiha and Senju firm, The Village Hidden in the Leaves created, nothing was stopping him from bringing his sister home for good. Perhaps he was mature enough to admit that he had delayed this reunion. To tear her away from her life in Village Hidden in the Whirlpools was risky, even if she wrote that she was desperate to be with them again. Stability was a precious thing.

It continued to drizzle which didn't help his anxiety. Another memory surfaced of his sister, in the rain, and he thrust it away fiercely from his mind. He needed to focus on something positive.

"Do you think the weather is a good or bad omen?" Tobirama raised a brow.

"I hadn't thought of it." He answered without a thought. "But rain doesn't do any favors when a man is drowning." Hashirarma put a hand on his waist, adjusting his sandals in the wet grass, blades sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

"In drought it does."

"We don't have droughts this far east." Tobirama just shook his head, too bothered by other thoughts to give a real answer. His real worries surfaced in his next query.

"Ten years?" Tobirama questioned quietly, turning to him and wiping the rain off his metal forehead guard, eyes flashing as if was remembering that day as well. His hair had turned white early in life, giving him a mature visage to match his stern personality, but preferred a less visible role. He liked his brother as the figurehead and working under his guidance. It left him time to do his pet projects- adding stability and organization to the village.

"Yes, about that, minus a few months."

Once again Hashirama smiled at him, pointing his dark eyes to the silent, misty forest.

Was the convoy late, or was he just overly nervous?

He went over every possible aspect that could have gone wrong. Robbers, poor villagers desperate for supplies, or worst, enemy clans. He had hoped the quick pace and short route would help them, but he could so clearly see the cracks in his plan.

He wanted the long-awaited family reunion to be special, as it had been too long since the remaining Senju family was complete. The Village was completed. But the Uzumaki had insisted it would be safer and less flashy for them to bring her.

He was such a fool.

Why did he put his sister's fate in someone else's hands?

That dark moment in the rain gave Hashirama time to wonder, grimly, how Madara Uchiha was doing trying to convince the Daimyo of the Land of Fire to support their village. Everything a clan head did was noted, and he knew Madara was not a patient man when it came to negotiation.

But Hashirama was beginning to think he wasn't either. He did try, at least. He hoped Madara was doing well.

Tobirama put a hand on his shoulder, clearly able to see his own distress.

"Perhaps we should call her Sayurimaru," Tobirama said, the humor thick in his voice despite a deceptive stoic face."Since that's what the Uzumaki clan have been calling her."

Hashirama grinned at his sister's nickname, chuckling.

"Lily spirit? It seems they have her spoiled!" Hashirama joked, feeling lighter. Tobirama looked as if there was nothing more ridiculous in the world, and Hashirama had to admit it was fairly fantastical. The name was very strange. Their young sister, a feisty, angry little girl that rarely took baths and liked sharp knives did not match the image of mystical beauty.

"They say," Tobirama continued, with only the slightest quirk on his lips, "That Sayuriama is a heavenly beauty. That even the spirit of beauty in the next world bows for her." Hashirama couldn't help but break into hard laughter. For the first time, a bit of sunlight peaked through the clouds.

"Heavenly? Little Sayuriama?"

Tobirama puffed as he thought of the mischievous little brat of a sister. Hashirama grinned and nodded with him. It was a strange thought. It would be more as if her playful personality would tire the spirits so they would collapse from exhaustion.

"Apparently the Gods replaced battle skill with an absurd amount of beauty. That's what the Uzumaki letter was referring too, anyhow." Tobirama finally cracked a real smile, the red marks on his face stretching into a softer look. "Which may be true, if she did turn out pretty."

"When you said beauty before, I thought that they were sending her ghost. But if the letter said that, then maybe they're actually sending her." It was a long-running joke between the brothers (though no one else in the Senju clan would ever dare join in) that Sayuriama Senju had about zero ability for fighting, since childhood. She couldn't even run in a straight line, as more often than not she'd trip before the third step. She was really, quite bad at anything to do with fighting. She had almost managed to take them out. As an accident. After one particular incident including expensive porcelain and a few fires, the clan had been ordered by his Father to not her near any form of dangerous material.

It caused chuckles through the Senju halls after the initial devastation was dealt with, and most of the clan was still fond of her thanks to that same spirit often brought happiness as well. What she lacked in ability, she made up in spirit. Her few letters were full of life, teasing them in a manner no one would.

Regardless of the constant teasing, there were few people held higher esteem in the Senju brothers' eyes than the precious Senju sister.

Wait.

There. Both brothers head jumped up, long before they saw the group. Three more minutes and they caught the flicker of movement, behind the treeline.

A few moments later they saw the first brown horse burst from the tree line, followed closely by other horses forming in a tight formation.

Even the battle-hardened heart of the Tobirama Senju seemed to quiver, as if in terrible anticipation. A strange wave of apprehension struck Hashirama, a twinge of pain. But it quickly passed into memory.

Turning to Tobirama he noticed that his frown had finally abated into a mildly more genial look of relief. Both the experienced shinobi were showing immature signs of long stifled emotions being brought to the surface. Hashirama's hands were behind his back attempting to keep the slight shaking from being too apparent.

Tobirama crossed his arms, looking at the encroaching group.

All the falcons, the distractions were cast aside in happiness.

Even the extra expense of using Uchiha falcons, crafty as they were, did not quell a shinobi's innate caution.

Hashirama did not trust himself to do any ninjutsu, for fear his enthusiasm would break open the earth and trees would erupt where they ought not to be. They both decided not to use any ninjutsu, and to wait in the cold morning rain, so they wouldn't attract very much attention.

But to go unnoticed entirely was a far too great a hope.

The brothers might have been more concerned if they paid enough attention to note the sentry was an Uchiha who was very interested in what they were saying. Capable of using the Sharingan and reading lips, young Hayo Uchiha's world was about to be changed.

**-X-**

A morning shift on top of the great wood wall, standing in the pouring rain, was not a desirable post. Hayo had audible grumbled receiving it, and his mother had smacked him for it.

Young, good-looking, and capable in battle, no non-Uchiha would think him any different than any in his clan. But he was different. He was excitable. He liked the other clans, making new friends, and the village to an embarrassing degree. Where another Uchiha would be mostly attempting to figure out how to use this new information to advance the clan, he was just excited to be alive.

_"Perhaps if you settled down with a nice young Uchiha girl instead of making eyes with those other hussies, you'd get better." She said with no small degree of venom. Ungrateful matron._

It wasn't his fault that the Uchiha women were stiff, unfriendly and unwilling to laugh. But the women from _other _clans. Wow-ee. The day the Clan started building in their part of the compound, he had fallen in love with about fifteen beauties of all shapes and sizes. And they liked him back, enjoyed smiling and giggling. It was amazing.

And on normal days the gate was a great place to gaze at them, occasionally adding to those numbers.

But not today. It was too early, and the rain would scare away any admirer who would normally venture his way.

So Hayo began the dreadful morning shift grumpy, and wet. He leaned as gracefully as he could against a wooden pillar, in a typical Uchiha stance. He had decided that staying under the thick wooden veranda would give him a better view anyhow.

The Clan Leader would want to know why Hashirama Senju was standing in the rain, this early in the morning. Hayo was just bored and curious enough to dare tune in. After all, he was very good at lip reading, it was the Uchiha specialty.

What were the Senju planning?

This was very unusual behavior for even the Senju, and so, he couldn't help but activate his Sharingan. This was just the beginning of the day's surprises.

_Sister. _The _Senju _Sister. A beauty among beauties, a princess among warrior-gods. Could it be real? But his eyes, the Uchiha eyes, never lied. And they didn't come here to greet returning people unless they were worried about them or were someone of great importance. But to have both...

It was a family reunion, he quickly discerned. And he, Hayo Uchiha, had front row seating!

He saw the rush of Chakra in Tobirama Senju, the larger than average smile Hashirama Senju had as a group approached.

Hayo continued to watch, even more, curious to the horses emblazoned with the Uzumaki crest paused. With his Sharingan activated he hung onto every word, surprised by the news.

This was _shocking_.

When the clans had still been at war, the Uchiha had mused at the idea of more dangerous Senju's, but there had never been clear evidence or a way to prove such speculation. How had the Uchiha Clan never uncovered this new bit of information? They had far better spies than the brash Senju Clan.

With Madara visiting the Lord of the Land of Fire the timing was suspicious at best. And ninja didn't believe in coincidences. Hayo was not high in the Uchiha ranks, but the clan had chosen him as a notable member, despite his young age. He even occasionally helped the Clan Leader, assisting him in his duties. Even if the older man disliked any help, finding it highly offensive.

But that was Madara Uchiha. The Uchiha Clan had changed dramatically since the death of Izuna, that was certain. The Clan Leader was still shaken by his brother's death, and the clan members knew it. Policies slipped past him, as did positions in the Village.

They wanted their old Clan Leader back, but he didn't seem to fit with this new version of living. To live shoulder to shoulder with other clans, to have his greatest enemies be touted as new friends. Well, Hayo didn't think too poorly of Lord Madara having a difficult time finding his footing.

Perhaps this could be used for the Uchiha's advantage.

Hayo walked forward across the walk to get a better look at the approaching clan. Previously smudged dots in the rain, they were clear to see. They were on horses but the gait was casual now, and they seemed to be in good shape. The dark blue cloaks embroidered with the orange symbol of the Land of Whirlpools kept them shielded.

There were five in the group, two women in the middle of three men.

Hashirama performed a hand sign. Wood shot out from the ground and the company had a temporary shelter over the top of them.

Hayo looked in admiration, glad the war was over- the Lord Hashirama was amazing. One sign and he made a virtual veranda, and with no obvious effort, or chakra expenditure. As a matter of fact, most of the figures had excellent chakra.

Save one.

The Uzumaki group and the brothers came together, and after a quick recognition test, came forward. They exchanged greetings and such, then they dismounted the tired-looking horses. The Uzumaki group took off their thick cloaks, and Hayo noticed all but one had the signature flaming red hair.

He turned off his Sharingan to gave at the smallest figure.

But it was that one with no chakra that caught his attention and held it.

**-X-**

The hood slipped carelessly off the head of the young woman, rich dark hair spilling around her shoulders. She gazed down, lashes fluttering as she took in the men before her.

Hashirama's mouth dropped open, a strangled sound escaping. Tobirama's arms tightened, mouth clenching. It was not an unfair reaction, more controlled than most.

Her mouth twitched, either in anger or discomfort, and she cleared her throat. She turned, ready to dismount, but suddenly slipped.

Though her initial dismount was rough, she was saved as both brothers flashed forward, Hashirama reaching her first. He helped her to the soft ground, but instead of standing tall she slipped again, barely caught by the brothers, each holding a shoulder.

Hashirama watched as the glimmer of tears appeared in his wide eyes, racing down her face. She swiftly turned, catching them both in a large hug. Her grin lit up the morning, and if by cue, a sunbeam pierced the cloudy day, hitting them, her face suddenly spotlighted.

As the sunlight shone, the brothers had made similar discoveries and deductions.

Sayuriama thick hair was similar to Hashirama's color, but had a shine and flow that he never would hope to achieve. That same glorious hair was framing a slightly wet face, pale as Tobirama. The heart-shaped face gave a cheeky grin as if caught saying something a bit sassy.

Her violet eyes teased at purple, something in-between blue and red. They were exactly set in her heart-shaped face, framed by thick lashes that were untouched by soot or makeup which would have been dripping off her face. Generous lips grinned, creating the most adorable dimpled smile, below a perfect nose. A swan neck held up her exquisite face, the thick cloak sliding down to reveal narrow shoulders. She had no blemishes, no scars, nor were her features irregular or misaligned in any way. In a world of battle scars and disfigurements, she was a goddess.

Everything was set in perfection, like a master painter's ultimate study of perfection, personified in a tangible young woman, a spirit who had a smile just a touch too sly for the good of others.

In a world where the constant war had taken them all and spit them back out, leaving them with so many shortcomings and physical injuries, she seemed unearthly.

But she was real, looks explainable. Her eyes were the same as their mother's, the rare variation of her clans' red ones. Not only her eyes she shared with their mother, but her chin was dainty, cheeks defined softly. Her nose was what Hashirama might have aspired to be if he hadn't been hit in the face more times then he could count, and remained on the gentle side.

It was if there was some strange magnetism that compelled them to linger on her features, but it was merely the surprise of such things coming together so well.

The common Senju characteristics that proved her a clan member had meshed and transformed her into the most beautiful woman many had ever seen.

She pulled back, placing a hand over her chest.

"Please tell me, Tobi, that Hashirama has stopped his horrible gambling habit!" She said faking distress, fluttering her eyelashes. Her voice was like smooth honey, on the low side, cultured and silvery.

She was _a disaster. _

Tobirama must have felt similar, as he gave a slight frown, turning out a forced smile at the pleasant tone. He already knew that plenty of men would be in love with her by the end of the day, only to be spurned by the end of the week.

"How you wound me, younger sister!" Hashirama said, looking a bit stricken this is how she would choose to greet them.

"Of course he hasn't." Tobirama cut across him smoothly. "Reckless as ever."

Sayuriama giggled.

Uzumaki Clan members looked on in relief. This girl wasn't their responsibility anymore. The leader of the mission, the old man of the group, about died in peace right then. This perfectly contrasted the worry that was just beginning to dawn on the brothers. Despite being excellent shinobi, they were not quite sure how to handle this.

They knew that the Senju sister must have been a surprise. Every single person thought that they wouldn't be shocked at her beauty. Without fail, they were. No doubt they would be floored when she was at her best.

And when the village saw her, the Senju brothers would get to fight the marriage proposals, the attempted kidnappings, and fickle moods.

It was like a breath of fresh air not having to protect such a person. One that the brothers would not have for a long time. Sayuriama stepped aside, letting Hashirama move forward to greet the rest of the clan.

Hashirama laughed, perhaps to cover his real thoughts of this unexpected turn of events. As honest as most of the letters the Uzumaki sent had been, he hadn't taken it as seriously as he should have.

The other women, Mito Uzumaki, smiled at the reunited Senju clan. She had enjoyed the time with the silly girl, and had been one of the few earned her respect and confidence of the beautiful Senju sister. Though Mito was travel-worn, she was also lovely, and she gazed fondly at Sayuriama.

Hashirama looked up to Mito, arm around Sayuriama who was beaming at him and Tobirama. Something flickered in his eyes as Mito smiled at him, and he gave a kind grin back. Mito had met Hashirama Senju a few years ago, when their clans united, and he was a budding leader and fighter. She hadn't forgotten how handsome he was. Apparently, he hadn't forgotten her either.

Finally, the old Uzumaki mission leader mentioned something about a chill, and the entire group proceeded into the grand village, passing towards the Senju compounds.

Hashirama attempted to talk business but was getting more flustered by the two women that had suddenly re-entered his life. Sayuriama was leaning between him and Tobirama, clutching their arms intermittently while she walked.

Hashirama knew his world was about to become very different.

He knew it was over when Mito smiled and greeted him, saying that she would be staying as an emissary from Uzushiogakure. She adored Sayuriama, taking her into her family and was very fond of the Senju clan in general.

All of the guards that had come were happily married, and that was one of the biggest reasons they had been chosen. They couldn't risk the pretty Sayuriama into an unmarried, or unhappy clan members. Even married, it had been hard for the happily married men not to stare at her, and when she wanted to get her way they were lucky Mito was there. Sayuriama was practically forced to keep her hood the entire journey, and she was not happy about it either.

She must have noticed Hashirama's attention was on Mito, and she turned to Tobirama who was beginning to look long-suffering but pleased at her approval of the village. He finally smiled back at the silly girl who was so happy to be with them, passing through into this new home.

They passed many temporary residences, tents and weak wooden structures, not many people there as it was still too early for most. The few they did pass abjectly stared in wonder, and Hashirama knew that the entire village would be informed of this young stunning woman before the day was out.

As they got further into the compound Hashirama took it upon himself to enthusiastically showcase the better, more finished structures. When they finally reached the Senju compound Hashirama was filled with pride as Sayuriama sighed in wonder at the unique wooden residence. And that Mito had nodded in approval, clearly impressed.

It was like a strange dream in the misty, rainy morning.

**-X-**

Later, when the envoy was settled, the family enjoyed a small breakfast in a lovely Senju gathering room. Sayuriama sipped at her tea, covertly looking to Hashirama who was regaling Mito with tales of his recent work. Mito, in turn, seemed a bit entranced at the enthusiasm and attention of the brown-haired man.

Sayuriama shifted on her seat, looking to Tobirama, who seemed content to just relax. He turned to her.

"They'll be no end of trouble." He said, making the girl smile, as was his intention. Sayuriama grinned.

"I missed you, Tobirama." His eyes widened, then his small smile widened into a rare, content one. He put an arm around her shoulder for a moment before letting go. This was what he had wanted, what he had fought so hard and long for.

"Glad you're here."

She smirked cryptically.

"As I, dear older brother."

** -X-**

Hayo was frozen on the top of the lookout and hadn't moved for most of the morning. He didn't know whether he had been put under a Genjutsu, was seeing a spirit, or a real woman. The redhead women had been attractive, but this Senju girl?

No doubt this was Amaterasu, goddess that shines in heaven, returning to her home. Hayo put a hand through his dark hair, realizing that he was sweating. The Senju Uchiha Alliance had defiantly been a good move for all single Uchiha men.


	2. Scroll 2

The name Madara Uchiha did more to bring awe, fear, and trepidation to the world then most armies combined. A myth, no, a legend in the making, the patriarch of the Uchiha Clan and the wielder of the Sharingan. And in some circles, a man who killed his brother to obtain the power of a demon.

Not often, was the man remembered for his mortality. So it can be forgotten that he was a man, and there were certain things that annoyed even him.

There were three things, as a matter of fact, that he loathed.

The first would be meandering, long trips. The type where nothing was accomplished, no intelligent mind in sight, and not a single battle worth his sweat.

If Hashirama Senju, and several Uchiha Elders, hadn't specifically begged him to peacefully impress the Fire Daimyo (the potential 'benefactor' of the new leaf village) and make several unnecessary promises, bad things would have occurred. Peaceful being the keyword there.

Madara didn't have the patience for fools. He would have gladly 'convinced' that rich old buzzard off a cliff, with the honor of his sword through his belly, had he not been so specifically entreated. The Lord was disrespectful, speaking in flowery language as most wealthy, 'privileged' men who used to control the land did, always trying to outwit and outmaneuver the (more than generous) proposed treaties offered.

Men like him were meant torn down by shinobi like Madara, the old lords who thought shinobi still bowed to them. Yet Hashirama was somehow convinced that peace was the answer.

And here he was.

The second thing that was unforgivable happened to be that very man who sent him off to this kami-forsaken mission.

It would be a lie to say Madara Uchiha didn't respect Hashirama Senju, but it was hard-won respect. It was thanks to the fact he could hardly stand Tobirama Senju that he didn't object. It would be held over his head forever if that brat thought he was nervous to leave the Uchiha Clan.

He fully trusted his clan. Or the three men he left in charge. There were many who wouldn't dare reject any of the Senju ideas. It was as if they couldn't think for themselves, or the clan.

Of course, when Izuna had been around, they didn't have too.

Spikes of pain filled him, as did the desire for him to just start a fight. The memory of his brother was a constant reminder in the back of his head. He hated when the voiced whispered failure, whispered his eventual doom, the destruction of the Uchiha. His anger was constantly below the surface, ready to bubble up at the slightest provocation.

A reckless soldier of the Daimyo's had gotten a bit cocky during the visit. SaburoUchiha assured him that he wouldn't be found.

The last thing that bothered him was when knowing full well he had just returned and was resting, a clan member dared to wake him.

Madara couldn't help go over these things as he slowly choked the life out of the man who infringed on number three.

If it hadn't specifically been Hayo Uchiha, who he vexingly remembered was the younger brother of Setsuna, and probably had permission to disturb him. Madara almost hoped it was an urgent situation, because who knows what kind of carnage could come upon the Uchiha compound that day from the Clan Leader?

Hayo did gasp in relief as Madara let go, his body going to the wood floor.

"This had better be an emergency." He drawled, voice coldly directed at the young man struggling for breath.

Madara sat on the wall at the back of his small bed, angrily looking down at his subordinate. With dismay, Hayo noticed that Madara's eyes were blood red, and not just from lack of sleep. Hayo Uchiha, like every Uchiha, was proud of his mastery over their Kekkei Genkai. But the Clan leader was on a whole different level.

Eternal red eyes, eyes removed from kin.

It made him squirm those cursed eyes stared him down. He looked away, scratching his dark head nervously. He decided on a bow.

"Forgive me, Lord Uchiha." He said as monotone as he could.

"Did I not tell you that you should report to Sestuna if you needed anything less than an emergency?"

"Yes, but Ashura said I sho-" Madara raised a hand, cutting him off. Typical. He arched a mocking eyebrow.

"Is Ashura Uchiha the head of this clan?"

"Of course not, Lord Madara." He said head down. But Hayo didn't leave. Brave, foolish boy.

"Get on with it!" Madara growled. He hardly moved as he kept his arms crossed, restraining himself from murder.

"Lord Madara, the Lord Hashirama and Tobirama Senju wish to speak with you as soon as morning comes. They wish to know-" Hayo looked up, cutting off cold from his report.

They called it the Mangekyo Sharingan, and Hayo had never had the opportunity to see it up close, the red eyes. His mouth went dry as he got caught into the pattern. The promise of menace behind that look that was exclusively Madara Uchiha's.

"Get out," Madara said, breaking the spell, "Or I will help you out."

In two seconds Hayo stumbled as fast as he could, pushing open the sliding door and going through, footsteps pattering down the wooden corridor. Madara jumped out of his bed and stalked towards the dresser.

He pushed it the rest of the way closed, realizing that Hayo had managed to slightly rip the screen in his rush to leave.

He inspected the damage on the silk fabric, the Uchiha embroidery stretched, knowing it was ruined.

Stupid child.

Anger surged through him, as it did a good deal of the time now. The little things his own clan did irritate his mind like sandpaper on the skin.

He gave the fabric a cynical look.

What to do? Assign Hayo a triple shift on the wall, or perhaps force him to scoop dung in the fields? None of the ideas abated his anger.

A good sign he was perhaps being irrational.

He usually could work his rage off with a good battle, and those stupid practice training sessions with the Senju managed to take off the edge. But he hadn't had the time in three months to cure the edge of insatiable bloodlust that often pressed at him.

And there was always his voice, in the back of his head.

_Failure._

He was born to fight, not asked to go on ridiculous trips to talk to old men who couldn't even lift a sword while his clan pointlessly argued about which useless member would become his second-in-command.

He gritted his teeth, and his palm clenched the doorframe.

The wood snapped cleanly, and with a resounding crash, the entire timber frame fell to the ground. The dark blue fabric, emblazoned with the Uchiha crest, ripped unceremoniously in half amidst the debris. For a while, he gazed at the destruction he had caused, knowing the clan would be talking about this behind his back.

_Is he okay? _They whisper. _Perhaps the Clan Leader is unwell?_

Without Izuna, they thought they could whisper, talking behind his back and not be heard. It was a hard position. To directly confront those who would plot against him would compromise his position, his stability. Make it worse.

So he let them murmur about how he was unstable, wasn't thinking clearly. That grief had clouded his mind. That voice, Izuna's voice, didn't disagree. His mind endlessly turned over his pain, never showing it, but all the weaker for it.

Madara took a deep breath, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight across his broad chest. Old sweat mingled with new, and he whirled around angrily.

Loudly destroying his home may not have been the best idea, but no one would dare come knocking at his residence when he was in such a mood. The Uchiha's were well aware of their temperamental leader's recent moods.

To his face, the men respected him, knelt to him, and followed him in battle, and the women served and protected the home, and the daughters hoped to catch his eye. Many of the younger ones swooned over his tall frame, confidence, and standing. To marry one and produce an heir would solidify him, but he had no need to prove his strength.

He was the strongest of his clan who had ever been born. What's more, he showed strength to preserve his clan when he had no other choice. He bowed down to the truce to create The Village Hidden in the Leaves with the Senju, despite his entire being rebelling angrily.

The lumber cracked under his foot, but he didn't cause more damage. The door no doubt would be completely fixed by the time he got home, but there was little use in trying to resolve his frustrations here.

He narrowed his eyes, which slowly turned darker until the irises were black again.

Despite the clan seemed to humor him as a leader, he had to accept that this village was changing them all. The more time they spent with other clans, the more Uchiha traditions they let slip away. And when he voiced his concerns, they felt him out of touch. Despite barely being in his thirties they found him old and out of touch, not having trustworthy judgment. They doubted his ability to lead, and if he didn't figure out something he would turn into a figurehead, bereft of real power.

Even some of the men were beginning to think they knew better bothered him. Combined with that brat jumping in and telling him that the Senju brothers had oh-so-politely had asked him to report in as if he reported to them, and the fact someone had been in his room- the clan head's sacred space- made him long to create a meaningful new war.

He exhaled, fire running through him. His body screamed for sleep and using the Sharingan, even just to scare the life out of Hayo, was making him annoyingly tired. The mix of utter exhaustion and adrenaline was most displeasing. His darkening temper didn't bode well for the next day.

He must have been exhausted, as this made him think of his time with the older Senju embassy, that had accompanied him to the fire lord. Hashirama, that devil, probably did it on purpose, so Madara wouldn't kill the Daimyo accidentally. It, regrettably, had worked. Madara had been proud of his patience, and even he even believed he had managed to impress the old man Senju with his temperance.

The only time Madara let his own anger out was when he was asked to 'perform' his Sharingan. _The sheer insult. _

His rage had almost been unleashed, but to prove he was capable of keeping controlled when provoked.

That was the most successful moment of the entire mission, he estimated with a sneer, thinking of the writhing guards on the floor. They had still been in comas when he left. Leaving a healthy amount of fear in the Daimyo eyes, probably giving nightmares to that feeble son that supposedly was his successor.

Right after that, old man Senju had motioned him aside, waving his hand like a bat flaps its wings.

To his dismay, the old man had a long talk about self-control. It was the very end of the lecture that had caught Madara's attention and stayed in his memory. He had been reliving the fight when the old man was talking, but when he had looked Madara straight in the eye, he started listening. Madara had raised an eyebrow at the man's daring. Few men looked into an Uchiha's red eyes and lived.

The old man looked seriously at him, and sipped his tea, being careful not to spill on the table with his shaky hands. "Madara, my boy, I think you could probably release that sexual tension if you got a wife."

Madara had paused mid-sip, almost choking on the impertinence. The casual use of his name by a Senju was enough to startle, but the additional information?! With _excellent self-control_ Madara merely lowered his teacup to the table, softly.

But the tea in his mouth got caught in his throat, and he unceremoniously started coughing. He had put his arm over his mouth, choking into it. The old man didn't pass a glance over the slight reaction, knowing full well he had Madara's attention now.

"Typical virgin reaction." He said callously, rubbing his sparse hair.

"Heh. Is that right?" He said, sarcastic words laced with murderous intent. He was warning the old man, while he still had time.

"I was the same way when I was your age, boy. Thought I had the world at my fingers. Mind, you _do_ have the world at your fingers, but I think you'd be less stressed if you married a pretty little thing. Women are demanding creatures, but I think you'd find a way to make that benefit you."

Madara could hardly believe he had been pulled into such a conversation. He hadn't thought about women for a long time, and his eyebrows raised. There was never a woman worthy enough to even catch his lingering attention.

Sneering, he stood, leaving the old Senju (and still heavily considering sending him to his deceased wife) to his own opinion.

The memory made him feel slightly ashamed. The old man had caught him off his guard completely. If he stayed, who knows what would have happened? It would have been a bigger disaster than the embassy. The old man might have started talking about his wedding or, gods save him, his wedding night.

He sneered, the memory turning him even more weary of life.

He had managed to remove the armor before he fell into bed previously, his long dark shirt a wrinkled mess. His low slung pants had fared better but would need some washing. Those came off also, and he took a long robe out of the closet. He glared, knowing he left it folded on the chair before he left. He pulled the dark blue material onto his toned upper body and tied it at the waist, his lithe chest cutting a handsome figure.

His armor, bandage belt, sword, sickle, and Gunbai lay on or near the desk. Madara's personal room wasn't that large, but it was usually incredibly tidy. When his domain, he would control all he could. He noticed almost anything that was out of place in his room.

Madara went back to the bed and stretched himself over it. The only thing that the old man had been successful doing was it had made him think seriously of women and wives, maybe for the first time in years.

There were many eligible women in the Uchiha clan, ranging from seventeen to seventy-five, and several reasonable ones who would make wives and Clan mistresses of the highest eminent caliber. Many of them gave him longing looks, talked of him, and hoped he would notice them.

But even the most docile Uchiha wives could be a pain in the rear end because all those women had agendas. None he would consider his equal, and he didn't even bother to imagine growing to care about them. It was not appealing.

He closed his eyes, arms raised above his head, long legs stretched out to dwarf the bed. Maybe he would sleep far passed dawn just to annoy Hashirama. Perhaps it would be enough reason for Tobirama Senju to try and start another fight. Smirking at the thought, he relaxed his muscled body into sleep.

A war would be the only mistress he'd dreamt about.

**-X-**

Hashirama, on the other hand, wished he had asked Madara to come later in the day. At the time he thought that the Daimyo of the Land of Fire was a top priority, an all-important person who couldn't be underestimated.

If they managed to get his support they would have fewer troubles with financing in their village, luring merchants, and other things shinobi disliked thinking about. But the Lord continued playing coy, creating tasks for them to check, making almost impossible proposals. He had hoped Madara could convince him being, well, Madara.

Or alarm him.

Now he was beginning to realize that sleep was much more important than this petty matter of money and stubborn Lords. If one was awakened every single night, they tended to become unreasonable; Even he. While much more taciturn and mature over Madara, even he got a little grouchy over lost sleep.

The God of all Ninja sighed deeply as he turned the corner.

Hashirama turned the corner of the Senju compound to find Tobirama and Mito Uzumaki staring pointedly at a certain window. Mito smiled widely as she saw Hashirama, and she pulled her night kimono a little tighter around her. It was clear Hashirama and Mito had _it_ for one another.

Tobirama stepped back, not bothering to smirk, letting the couple fall in step together.

Then all three turned to look at the man who was singing sonnets outside.

Another midnight caller for Sayuriama. The third one this night, as a matter of fact. EVERY SINGLE NIGHT since Sayuriama's presence became known, things like this had happened.

The morning was slowly getting closer, and the sky was brighter than before. The change in darkness was showing how long the minstrel had been there.

He had been a pretty singer but after two hours of being flat out ignored, his voice was starting to break. The trio watched him, feeling a bit pitiful. Hashirama had even managed to give Mito the cloak he had been wearing after she shivered slightly. Finally, after another ten minutes, the love-struck singer left in despair.

If the Senju brothers hadn't had excellent patience, they would have killed the intruder suitors. The first night they had been alarmed but laughed when they saw the first of what would be many singers to grace their sister's window. Mito, the only one truly aware of what was coming, sighed. The brothers would soon regret the lax manner they had treated the first few suitors.

Every single night. Tobirama was seriously considering using his Jutsu to start drowning the midnight visitors. The disappointed man jumped away, over the compound walls. Hashirama, after the third night, had made the wooden walls taller, but somehow they still got through.

Sayuriama didn't make it any easier. She never talked about the situation, like it had never bothered her, or she wasn't around to hear it. She did sleep in, proving some sort of awareness. She was _quite_ clever.

Her brothers very quickly learned three things.

First, she must have known she was beautiful, but she refused to talk seriously about it with them. It's as if she only wanted to be beautiful when she could take advantage of the situation. Now, Tobirama could respect that sort of ingenuity, but she didn't lend her favors easily to her brother, especially when she had been told in no uncertain terms she was not to bother the patrolling ninja.

Ten years and nothing changes.

And next, because these (gullible) men were so easily charmed and so quickly fell in love, she was never quite impressed. Men even dared face Tobirama's ire to beg permission for a formal meeting. There was some talk about marriages that quickly was stopped when she threw a huge tantrum, accusing them of wanting to be rid of her.

Three, she was still a child. A Senju to her core, a snotty, childish, naive, kid determined to get her own way. She was more than worthy in the battle of tongues, and often time this was accompanied by someone becoming bright red as she proved her prowess in conversation.

_They still loved her_, Tobirama constantly reminded himself.

Hashirama had once joked to Tobirama about marrying her to the Lord of Fire's Son son, to convince him to create the alliance. He was giving the notion of serious thought, especially after another sleepless night.

The only thing good about these midnight affairs, for Hashirama, that a certain redhead woman in a night robe. He blushed mildly. It was the nightly caller's fault that he was having these forward thoughts. He was fortunate that Mito had been busy and not at the breakfast table when Sayuriama, overhearing the marriage jokes and gave him the one over. For someone completely uninterested in marriage, she seemed to have quite a bit of knowledge of what married people do. He rubbed his cheek in frustration, wondering how he had been outwitted by a silly sister.

Mito turned to Hashirama, smiling. He would never know how it was Mito's fault that Sayuriama had such expansive knowledge. Or the fact that both women were planning his marriage to Mito the moment they got to Konoha. Hashirama would probably never know how he got a wife, but he did know that it was women that controlled those relationships.

She smiled up at him, suggesting they walk back together; Tobirama tactfully left the opposite way, to check on Sayuriama. He watched the retreating figures.

As he turned to walk away, his thoughts pained him. It was wonderful to see his brother finding a potential wife after all these lonely years, but after Tobirama had lost his fiancée in battle he shied away from most relationships.

Tobirama had stiffer humor out of the two brothers, but he also had more time to spend with his sister. He often took her to the places he was working on, showing her his plans. In return, she was quite brilliant when it came to inventive solutions. Who else would have dared consider a mutual class for the young, combining the clans?

His good mood didn't last towards evening. But not when it came to the nightly disturbances. If it wasn't for Hashirama some love-struck songbirds would be much wetter and in a makeshift hospital.

He went down the wooden walkways, and across the lovely bridge that connected the lone annex, Sayuriama had chosen as her room.

They had moved Sayuriama's room closer after the warnings Mito had given to them. Men had a tendency to fall in lust with their younger sister when she was living in Uzushiogakure, and not much had changed. They made sure she was accompanied at all times, much to her mortification, and that it was by a trustworthy clan member who was female. In the daytime, it wasn't much of a problem, but at night it was flat out ridiculous. Tobirama silently decided that the Village was getting a new law.

_Don't bother, she's not interested._ If you are found on Senju ground, you will be sent to Madara Uchiha to experience his Mangekyo Sharingan, then sent to the front lines.

Tobirama smiled at the thought.

Threatening people with Madara Uchiha almost always worked like a charm, though he was against becoming too friendly with any Uchiha. But, pitting Sayuriama's beauty to Madara's scare factor would be interesting. Tobirama stretched his arms, then adjusted his night robe.

It was only half an hour until Madara was supposed to show, and there was really no point in trying to get some shut-eye. He would be damned if Sayuriama thought she was going to sleep in.

Tobirama yawned, stretching his arms while he crossed the stone path to Sayuriama's apartment in the compound.


	3. Scroll 3

Sayuriama had never intended to become so beautiful.

After all, she reasoned, beauty was a shallow surface trait that could be easily marred or would eventually fade with time. She certainly didn't want to be ugly, as every girl would tell you, but possessing beauty to the point where you are no longer viewed as a human? In a world where men killed one another for a piece of bread, she had never felt peace away from her brothers.

This beauty was more of a curse than a blessing.

She knew that's not how most people viewed her. They called her blessed, a very visage of beauty incarnate. They didn't know her. They didn't know she spoke several languages, understood even more. That she had memorized nearly two hundred ninjutsu scrolls.

Not even her clan spoke to her like she was an adult, speaking down to her.

They underestimated her because her intelligence would never be as important as her beauty.

It drove her from a comfortable bed every night to try and train because she was exhausted from hearing about her sparkling eyes, her lovable cheeks, the fine shape her lips rested in when she pondered something. And _one more comment on her perfect nose…._

It was better to sit in the bushes, dirty and sore then be subject to that.

_How did these men even get to her window? Why hadn't her brothers stopped them?_

That's why she was at the Senju training grounds, still in the compound, but where no one would watch her, where no one could judge. Except for her new _nanny_, Tsunada. Everyone knew that's what the older woman recently assigned to her was. Not that Hashirama said that directly when she asked why Mito didn't have one and she did. He said something about keeping _her virtue_ intact.

She told him _exactly _where he could put his own virtue. This caused him to go into a depression and sit sadly in despair most of the day. Proprietary was not something people who knew her well would comment about.

While happy to host her and cater to her whims for a while, quickly her brothers had been drawn back into the village, and subsequently, began forgetting about her.

Tobirama had been straightforward the last time she had asked.

"_You can't even walk without tripping, dear sister." He said pointedly. "And I don't have time to babysit while creating a city."_

Tobirama deserved her look of disdain as she left the room, head held proudly. It would have been better if she hadn't stumbled over the banister on the way out, causing his chuckles to loudly follow her in shame.

If only. If _only._

Fate had certainly been cruel. It was the worse sense of despair to be left, to watch as those you cared for slowly disappeared, never returning from where they ventured. They thought they were doing her a favor but instead had gifted her misery, anxiety, and fear that engrained so deeply it could have been her shadow.

Petulance led by fear, augmented by lack of talent.

Among the myriad of problems she faced was chakra control. If hand to hand combat was poor, her ninjutsu was non-existent. She never had any skill with hand-eye coordination or grace when it came to fighting. The most she could do was throw a kunai in the general direction she wanted. Learning how to run was a trial. She had to focus her entire being if she wanted to be successful.

Which was strange because as long as she stayed away from the _intentions_ of doing such, she was perfectly capable and balanced, and had learned to move with poise. It was as if her thoughts jinxed her.

For having such battle proficient brothers as Hashirama and Tobirama, it was embarrassing. Not cute, or as people told her, endearing.

There was no explanation of how her brothers could have such prodigious skill, except they took her as well.

Beauty aplenty, but nothing to back her high claims but the hope her family would continue to live, to be capable enough to save her from the cruel world who wanted to use her.

Inside her, she could feel the frustration bubbling but shook it away. Every kidnapping attempt had managed to be foiled, but she was still left with the fear that one day she wouldn't be saved, despite being so heavily guarded.

A long distant memory threatened to return, but as always, she pushed it down. Now there was no time for it. Whether she was still a child or not was debatable, but something that wasn't is that she was an undeniably desirable target.

A different village, the same voice of admiration.

Since beauty was all these men knew of her, she felt like she really had no obligation to pay attention. She was always spurred to action because it was _impossible_ to sleep with men constantly outside her window. _How her brothers laughed the first night. _She hoped they didn't sleep for the next five years- she could catch up during the day while they were out.

As soon as she bid her family good night, she'd sneak away, missing the annoying wanting lovers. It was really the only time she had alone. After becoming the most kidnapped person in Uzushiogakure (or more likely, the Land of Fire) she felt like she had the right to be the one doing to sneaking.

Sayuriama had felt like there was something incongruous that night and decided that she should leave the training fields early. Climbing through Hashirama's understructure was a training in itself, as well as avoiding a few servants who worked nights.

She slipped into her room, sighing in the victory. Not being caught by her brothers was quite the feat, though the way Hashirama looked at her some morning made her feel that she wasn't that sneaky in her escapades. But he must have been feeling indulgent, for he never mentioned her walking around.

Tsunada had been a surprising ally, tapping into her discontent. They had met the first day she had arrived, and Sayuriama had spent the entire day slipping away, making rude comments and trying to be as unpleasant as possible. But at every turn, the older woman had been kind, understanding, and never let her slip away for long.

She secretly admired that sort of devotion, and while she felt almost abandoned, Tsunada let her be herself. They talked ninjutsu together, and Tsunada watched her train, correcting things even though she never got better. She explained the security measures Hashirama had, like she could be trusted, avoiding every trap.

Tonight was the same.

She and Tsunada split up once she was safely in her room. Inside the one area that was her own Sayuriama finally gave in to a deep sigh, letting herself release her exhaustion. Stepping towards the vanity she pulled off the mask first, disconnecting the humid material from her sweaty face.

It was much warmer here than in Uzushiogakure, and she was sure that she'd never get used to it. It was the devil in the daytime, especially since she often was dressed in the traditional kimono. Mito demanded it, saying lightly, as she was she comfortable in hers, that it showed that they were ladies, and they would be treated like them. Sayuriama wondered if she might have some actual friends if the other girls she had seen knew she wasn't the snobby lady she looked.

Girls, when she approached, shied away and used any excuse to mock her. Older female villagers tended to avoid her, and even many in the clan treated her with bare respect. All this, Tsunada stated, was due to jealousy. She wanted to scream how she was the same as them, she had no interest in their men. But too many of their boyfriends had been starstruck by her, leaving her derelict of friends.

The same tale, different city. Mito had been her only friend in the Village Hidden in the Whirlpools.

Princess, she was called. She laughed when she was first called it. It was all for the propriety of being a Senju sibling in this new city. They were a sort of Royalty in the ninja world, her brothers for their talent, skill and hard work, and she from a clan association and her face.

She doubted her dead brothers, Kawarama and Itama let her be treated so carefully. Tobirama had always been cool and reserved, and while Hashirama was warm and open even he treated her like an object at times.

Kawarama was kind and tender, and Itama had been wild and teasing. They chased her over mountains, threw dirt at her, and teased her relentlessly. But they were thrown into battle as children and were long dead. Hashirama and Tobirama had been nearly ten years her senior, and were already warriors when she was born. She looked at the mirror, wondering what they would have looked like. Maybe more like her, or her like them? Her chest felt a pang at the thought her mother, also gone. The only person that had never told her to give up. Her father adored her to the point of never letting her into training. Now he was gone as well.

They didn't understand her, even though they thought they did. Callous men. Not even Mito had been able to spend much time with her. Tsunada was too old to think it mattered.

She was alone, and everything was new.

Tears threatened to come out, but she couldn't let them. Too many times she had cried herself to sleep when she first came, and it did nothing. Anger had replaced sorrow.

Sayuriama felt upset as she threw off the rest of the training material she had pilfered from the Senju storage sheds. She would never be anyone of worth if she let these people dictate her life.

Getting down to her off-white slip made some of the pressure leave her chest. She looked at the scratches she had earned, her mussed hair. Fatigue finally hit her, overcoming her discontent.

Taking a glance down, she thought about recklessly leaving the clothes on the floor, just once. But being the first rule Tsunada set, she would risk the privilege of training if she was found out. And the old woman would smack her for being stupid.

She considered throwing them in the closet haphazardly.

The old woman might help her to the point of cleaning her training clothes every day in addition to her regular duties, but she would kick Sayuriama's back to The Land of Whirlpools if she left her clothes on the wood floor. For a fifty-year-old, she was pretty strong.

In a lingering fear of Tsunada's fist, she picked up every piece and put it at the bottom of the woven laundry basket. She even went as far as to wipe the mud off the floor.

Rising she moved to her vanity, an expensive wooden table gifted by her brothers when she arrived. Few women could boast of possessing such a finely polished mirror in the Land of Fire. She ignored it most days, but at night Tsunada had water and a rag waiting

She scrubbed herself down, finally taking off the slip to reveal skin that healed perfectly. One nice thing about being a member of the Senju clan was she did heal well from even really nasty cuts, hardly getting ill.

Cleaning them as best she could she then went to the closet, reaching for the top shelf that contained more underclothes. Grumbling she wondered why she had put it in such an inconvenient place, promised she would switch it. But she was out of luck again as there was no clean pair, remembering that laundry was usually done the next day. She hesitantly put back on the sweaty undergarments putting them first into the water to wring them out.

Failing to get the dirt out she gave up. No amount of uneasy feeling was going to get it better, but tomorrow she had clean clothes and no pressing appointments with either brother. She would finally live up to her title and sleep in.

She could easily explain away the wetness of her robe because tonight the heat was horrendous, but for good measure, she pulled on a yukata. If nothing else they hid the cuts she had carelessly caused over the nights, especially when Hashirama decided he wanted to go on an early morning walk and showcase his work to her.

A warm glow hit her screened window, a mellow light filtering in the room. Getting clean had taken longer than she thought. Her room was giving off the golden radiance of the sunrise, the wood reflecting the luminosity splendidly. Small bonsai plants from Hashirama were scattered on the sill, a smile finally coming to her lips.

Hashirama could be quite crazy when it came to his pet project, planting bonsai in as many random places in his village as possible.

It was a serene moment that gave her peace. She had always liked watching the sunrise, but The Land of Whirlpools had more gray mornings than gold. Tying the white cotton belt around her slender waist she knelt by her bed, airing it out once to make sure no bugs had entered. Finding it clear she slid in and stretched out.

Using a pearly hand, complete with perfectly cut nails, she grabbed the leather tie that had been holding her hair and pulled it out. Her copious amounts of hair fell down her shoulders, shining and spreading gracefully over the pillow.

She had finally accomplished something new tonight, and could now sleep in peace. Something she wouldn't have done had she'd stayed in her room. Those midnight visitors would never know they were singing to an empty room.

She grabbed the cotton covers, pulling their warmth around her. It was probably a little too hot, even in the early morning, for using covers but it had become a habit back in the land of Whirlpools. It was a lot colder there.

Fortunately, the cloth used here was breezy and with some small adjustments to let her feet out, the temperature was perfect. The cotton pillow molded to her face, a little stiffer than the feather one she had used when staying in Uzushiogakure, but the cotton managed to fare better. If they got dirty they were much easier to clean, and Tsunada didn't have to switch the covers often.

She didn't doubt her brothers would give her anything she wanted, but it was empty. The Senju clan did have the money to buy the best, but they were currently using quite a chunk of it to create the Ninja village. The village was quite a revolutionary idea. Instead of the wealthy benefactors paying clans, all they would have to do is support a village that would protect their entire country. Sayuriama did think it was amazing what her brother was doing, but the Fire Daimyo was being quite the devil about it. That's what she heard anyhow. She knew that they had high hopes for the last person they sent to convince him.

Sayuriama closed her eyes, the thick lashes resting on her cheeks. She sighed before falling into the limbo between sleep and awake and drifted into the dark.

The screen door slammed open and Sayuriama jumped up, almost squealing in fright.

Tobirama smiled at his little sister, obviously thinking she was just waking from a long night of sleep. His expression was one she was getting to know- an irritated look. What on earth had she done to irritate him _now_? Did he discover she was stealing his kunai? There was no way, not yet.

Regardless she yelled. "Tobi! Really? What the h-"

"Language, Sayuri!" He said bounding into her room, taking large steps till he reached her. "I'm so glad to see you have gotten your beauty sleep." He looked down, raising an eyebrow. She must have had the beginnings of faint dark shadows under her eyes. She _was _still human.

"Sayuriama, _Tobi._" She glared, then lay back down pulling her covers over her.

What was her brother doing in her room at the crack of dawn? Even more, why was he smirking in that creepy manner he had when he was trying to hide his irritation. He looked a little insane. He was wearing his metal forehead protector (Had he ever taken it off?) and his white hair looked as if it was on some sort of drug the way it was whacking out. He was in his night robe and his white hairy legs were sticking out. She shivered at the thought. Male legs should not be so casual.

"Ninja Art: Blanket-No-Jutsu. Now I'm not here. Leave Tobi." Sayuriama muffled voice came from beneath the fabric, giving her brother the insulting, shortened form of his name. She attempted to make her voice threatening, but it more came out in a tender squeak. She remembered why she hated mornings. She was not in the mood.

Neither was Tobirama.

He just hid it behind that cold smile reserved for moments like this. He stepped over to the bed and in a swift motion stripped her of her protective guise. She gasped at getting flipped out of the blanket, and again when he hoisted her to her feet. His speed was insane, and she was on the cold floor standing her bare feet in a matter of moments.

I'm even bad at fake ninjutsu, she thought correctly.

As Tobirama heaved his sister up he noticed scraps on her arms and legs. Her underclothes looked sticky and there was dirt on the fabric also. Sayuriama attempted to wrench away from her brother, scrambling away in a comedic fashion.

"Sayuriama, _why_ do these look fresh?" He hoisted up a leg much to her dismay and she slipped. He grabbed her and held her in balance while inspecting the cut. "You look like you've been rolling in the mud."

"I accidentally fell into a bush yesterday. They probably opened when you grabbed me!" She lied smoothly, attempting to her arm and leg free. "Let GO Tobirama!" The said man's dark eyebrows rose and were almost covered by the ever-existent metal plate on his forehead. She looked at him, eyes narrowed.

"You're very unbalanced." He said, shrugging, not really buying the story, but not letting go of her appendages. He looked at the cut on her leg again. "Let's put some medicine on it."

"Let Tsunada do it and you can leave to do whatever you're up so early for!" Sayuriama managed to free her arm. She gestured, waving him away. "Come to think of it, Tobirama, what did you wake me up for? I thought we had a free morning!" He smiled again, that cold smile. The marks on his face seemed to grow, and for a moment she wondered if it hurt when he got them. She forgot her question as he finally released her leg, apparently excited about the news. He loved being the one telling the story.

"The... the men we sent to the Fire Daimyo just got back, about two hours ago. We're meeting them as soon as possible." She could almost see his satisfaction. "Hashirama asked you to come." He looked as if he would disagree with the elder brother wholeheartedly.

"That's nice," She replied coolly, "But it has nothing to do with me." Tobirama stopped cold. He then looked her straight in the face, appraising her. For some reason she was dirty.

"Hashirama specifically requested it." Sayuriama groaned. Was she supposed to stun the poor ambassadors with her beauty?

"I'm tired. Find another sister." She reached down to grab the blanket that had been so rudely thrown to the floor. Tobirama grabbed it first and pulled it out of reach.

"I think not, _princess_." She looked up.

"I am not a princess!"

His smirk got bigger.

"What's the big deal?" She noticed in horror he had that smile on. The face he got whenever he was about to do something really nasty, that would make him win their argument. Granted, he didn't get to use it often when in a verbal dialogue with Sayuriama and her tongue, but she had learned to run when he had it.

She then regarded his crossed arms, a single finger lifted in retaliation. She recognized the simplified hand sign of her brother and looked in horror.

"You wouldn't DARE." She hissed. He smiled.

"You are rather dirty, maybe this will wake you up. It's like killing two enemies with one hand sign."

"I'm wearing white!" She said, hoping to escape. Her worst fear was realized as he tossed her the blanket that had fallen to the floor, and resumed the hand sign. He put his hand out in front of him then drew them back sharply, clapping.

"Water Release: Water Shockwave!"

Sayuriama managed to call her brother a very rude name before the virtual wall of water hit her full on. She then screamed.

Water release was usually a technique used for offense and one that ninja brothers didn't often use it on their younger sisters. Tobirama and Sayuri weren't ordinary siblings. They were Senju.

It was a testament to Tobirama's skill as a ninja that he was able to perform such a syncopated hand skill, and even more so that he was using it as a bath for his little sister.

Tsunada, the deeply respected guard of Sayuri, was standing at the door, noticing the skill that Tobirama was utilizing the Jutsu, cracking up as he did so. His voice wasn't as deep as Hashirama's wise one, but it held the same confidence, and maybe a bit more of a mischievous will. Sayuriama was holding onto the blanket as the Jutsu circled her. It was much smaller than his real attack but almost as vicious.

Tobirama was holding his hands crossed contently, keeping the Jutsu up. He looked almost too happy. Tsunada stepped in, holding a fresh pair of underwear in her arms. Tobirama acknowledged her with a nod, smirking.

"You're up early Tsunada." She nodded, agreeing.

Sayuriama, seeing her, screamed for help between several face fulls of water. "Tsu-" Water. "na-" Water. Screw the name. "HEL-" Water in the face.

"I heard the yelling. I could say the same to you Lord Tobirama." She said calmly, looking at the scene.

"I've actually been up all night."

"A common thing here, I'm afraid. But not necessarily her fault." Tobirama slightly grinned at the crafty old woman. As he looked over at his sister, the powerful jutsu did seem a little unfair.

"She is clean, I suppose." He said a little dramatically, releasing his Jutsu. He then moved to the window, tossing the curtains aside, and opened it. Performing another hand sign the water on the floor where the Jutsu was raised and went out. As if on a second the thought, the water on Sayuriama followed.

She sat on the floor, damp, a little disorientated.

Tsunada looked at Tobirama, thinking that she was seeing the only man who used Ninjutsu to bathe his sister. Then she watched as he went over to Sayuri and gently lifted her up, blanket and all. She hadn't been knocked around all that bad, but she was pretty mad.

She directed a surprisingly well-aimed fist into his firm chest, which Tobirama took, but smiled. He then grabbed the wet girl in a hug, kissed her sopping forehead, and walked to Tsunada. He gave her the update of the morning, and she nodded. He then left waving goodbye over his shoulder, going to dress.

"I hate you both." Sayuriama glared at the older woman who was staring after Tobirama's back. She turned back, smirking.

"You're the spoiled girl who deserved it. Hm."

"Did you SEE what he did to me! That was abuse!" Tsunada went over to Sayuriama who had sat on the bed. She put her arms on the girl's shoulders, and Sayuriama Sayuriama began to warm up. Tsunada had an affinity towards fire chakra so it was really no surprise she was so warm. She had the ability to pass body heat to people. "Thanks, but I'm still angry."

"Let's get you ready."

"I guess now that I'm awake."

Tsunada and Sayuriama rushed down the wooden walkways of the Senju compound twenty minutes later. They had a few more tiffs about what to wear but Tsunada won out, as she always did when it came to clothes. She was wearing a gorgeous blue kimono, a traditional Senju tree pattern. Her obi, the long sash of whites and yellow was tied in a firm at her back, forming a tight bow. Her long smooth hair had been put up in a simple style, flower ornaments placed with care.

After the last touches, socks and house sandals, they left.

They were silent as they passed the family sleeping quarters where the Senju cousins were, but as they got closer to the main house Sayuriama turned to Tsunada. She had lifted the kimono slightly, trading modesty for ease. She did have a tendency to trip in the shoes and was often shoeless for an easier commute. Not today. With all this preparation, it was clear Hashirama wanted to impress.

"Who are these ambassadors?" Tsunada looked hesitantly at her. If Sayuriama was getting dressed up like a doll this early she deserved an answer. She had been pretty good about not falling asleep again.

"One was your uncle Hotaka." Sayuriama nodded. It made sense that she hadn't seen him, though they had been friends in her youth. There were so many people she had to remember these past few days; not even mentioning the new people and clans. The few weeks she had been here had been a blur.

"I was wondering where he was. I miss his quips. Who was the other unlucky fellow?" Sayuriama grinned, and Tsunada snickered, then covered her mouth with her kimono as if improper.

It was well known Hotaka Senju was an excellent negotiator, but more notoriously, that he was also a nostalgic pervert. Especially when it came to reminiscing about his dead wife. Half of what Sayuriama knew was from listening to her old uncle in her youth. He had been a sort of patron to her cheekiness.

"It is rather unusual."Tsunada paused, clearly considering something, but finally turned to her again. She conspiratorially leaned in as if to tell a scary story under her breath. "The other fellow, as you put it, was the Uchiha Clan leader."

Tsunada paused, tugging as Sayuriama's stopped form. Not many names could make Sayuriama Senju pause, but this one did.

"The Uchiha Clan Leader, as in... _Madara_ Uchiha?" Her voice was dark.

The man that caused every Senju child shiver in fear.

What Senju didn't feel some sort of anger towards them? Her brothers, Itama and Kawarama had died as children in the battle against his clan many years ago, but she along with most of her clan held the Uchiha clan in special distaste.

She didn't know the man personally, but the whisperings of him among the Senju and Uzumaki clan were plenty of information for her to digest. He had a resume: The Uchiha that single-handedly brought his clan from a dwindling line to one of the few that had been able to spar the Senju Clan, a fearless shinobi that could stand on equal grounds as her elder brother. The ninja who Tobirama hated fiercely without equal.

Now, she could form her own opinion.

It only made sense, but she couldn't help feel a twinge of fear at the Uchiha name.

But still, this was a rare opportunity to exact revenge for her brothers in the only way she possibly could. Why else should Hashirama ask her to come when he wanted her to charm this enemy for some reason?

She would take this chance to snub this Uchiha Clan Leader.

How could she not take this moment to let him know just _what _the Senju thought of him? An act of mild revenge, but the best she could do.

It would be too fun.

She narrowed her eyes, putting a finger to her lips. Tsunada nodded.

"The very same. I'm sure you're more than knowledgeable about the Uchiha. You have strange fascinations for things you have no business in." Tsunade already knew Sayuriama was troublesome when it came to intrigue and things that generally should be unspoken.

"Uh, Tsunade! You assume too much. I am too little a girl to be of notice."

"I would be grateful if that logic could last through the night. We're all very tired of these singing boys."

"It would be rude if I told them to leave." Sayuriama put her hand to her mouth, aware of her silliness. "I'm sure Madara would be angry if I was so rude."

"Little brat. You will call him _Lord_ Uchiha when you meet him, and you will certainly not be so crass as to speak to him. Lord Hashirama has a very high opinion of him, and would be displeased if he was vexed."

"So am I to at least meet_ Lord Uchiha_?" The name sounded exotic on her tongue and a little dangerous. The girl subconsciously pulled her lovely robes around her, her cheeks a bit red at the cool morning air. "The same Lord Madara that has hated the Senju for generations."

Tsunada frowned.

"If he deems it worth his time. He might make us wait- You never quite know with him. And you will _not_ vex him. We need to put the past behind us. "

Sayuriama smiled delicately. "Of course not. It's not like the Uchiha have ever vexed a Senju." Tsunada frowned.

"We need to put old anger behind us if this village is to work. You must be an example." Tsunada said. "We have killed many of them as well."

Sayuriama stopped for just a moment.

"I suppose." Her face wasn't convinced.

The two entered the Senju meeting house, erected with thick wooden pillars and an elegant tiled roof. It had been painted in the usual Senju colors, emblems gleaming on lacquered wood. The Senju symbol gleamed in the night. Sliding doors lined the walls, a multitude of rooms of many family members, as well as the various people employed. Hashirama had hired many in need.

The few in the room recognized them, nodded slightly, as if with little interest. Young guards let their eyes follow Sayuriama until she had passed, leaving the flowery scent of her perfumes to grace their imaginations.

It was a quiet place, this early. Sayuriama matched her voice to the mood, keeping it low.

"So why have I been summoned? To complement the tea or seduce the Uchiha?" Tsunada hit her on the head. "Ow!"

"No silliness. And it's LORD Uchiha. Be polite." Sayuriama chuckled and bit her lip, eyebrows raising. "But only Lord Hashirama would know the real reason for that."

"Old Hag. That hurt- Don't bother giving me your airs. I know that _you_ know every intrigue. Hashirama is no fool when it comes to his minions."

"Yes."

Sayuriama rubbed her head and Tsunade had to swat at her again to make sure all the work she had done was not ruined.

"Stop it!"

"Stop ruining my work. It's perfection!"

"Tell me! Your gossip is the only perfect thing in this house." Tsunada smirked, not denying the statement. She did just happen to occasionally _hear_ things. She said it wasn't really gossip, but more making sure things ran smoothly.

"I suppose your brother wants to show Madara he trusts and respects him. How better to do so than to formally introduce his beautiful, intelligent, sister to him? You have not been formally introduced to many people."

"It's Hashirama's fault I don't get out more often." She said, feeling dejected. She had very much wanted to go to the play the other night and had watched from afar as other people had passed to go. But, her brothers always seemed to have some sort of trick up his sleeve. Hashirama was much more cunning than he let on.

"Quiet. We're getting close."

Sayuriama nodded mindlessly, hearing the whisper voices to the front of them, in the cozy personal room at the end of the hall. They were behind the screen, and the murmur of voices slipped through the tatami-covered doors.

How would she insult the Uchiha? She would have to do so in a way that was so formal and engaging that he might not even _know _she was slowly removing his confidence. After all, men usually never considered _her_ capable of intelligent reasoning enough to influence their thoughts.

She was just about to slide open the screen door when he spoke, and she was glad she had not. It caught her off her guard, and her knees trembled a bit. But It was this last voice that really caught her attention.

Sayuriama didn't think that she was capable of being charmed. She, by far, had the most enticing voice she knew off. She had once charmed a kidnapper so well with her voice, he didn't notice a group of Whirlpool Shinobi walk behind him and hit him over the head.

They found her looking rather bored, reciting the edict of some past general.

But as she got closer to identifying people, she was surprised that maybe there was someone who had enough of a voice to intrigue even her.

Hashirama had his reassuring voice, even and calm. He wasn't the most talented conversationalist, but he had this way of making you feel comfortable and agreeable. Even after ten years that hadn't changed, and she still felt safe hearing it. She could also hear Mito. If she hadn't known better, she would have guessed they were already married, the way Mito's voice seemed to accent Hashirama's in the most perfect way. They both had great charisma. Tobirama's voice was slightly lower than Hashirama, but it still held that Senju confidence. And if she had to guess, he was not a little too happy. Normally he seemed to be sober and held that tone of strength and passion. He wasn't quite as calming, but he did have a pull to him. Power. Even Uncle Hotaka had a distinct style, though less elegant.

At the sound of the voice, her thoughts paused.

"_It wasn't as successful as I hoped, but I do think we managed to make him consider that the repercussions of not deciding to give us his support wouldn't be very good."_

It was as if the impact had knocked every wisp of air from her lungs. Her expression went from confident tease to white chalk.

Tsunada turned to the girl and was caught off guard by her expression, the hand stopped cold.

The sound of rushing blood filled Sayuriama's ears blocking all sound as the world shifted and became crisper. The steady beat of her own heart pounded in her head, sending signals to chill her spine and ready her for something akin to encountering something terrible.

It wasn't the exact words that caught her attention and would be forever engrained in her; It was the absoluteness of the voice.

At first, it was a honeyed tone, full of convincing subtleties, but as she listened, it turned deeper than Tobirama's, husky and full of unspoken secrets.

She knew it would be hard to convince herself that something like heat could shoot through her because of a voice, but here it was. So assured of its own ability to create poetry where none was meant, and she knew that if the man matched, she would be in trouble. This voice had the ability to make her _feel._

There was really only one way to describe the voice. The way she had never had cause to say about anyone, much less a voice. Sybaritic. She listened with a hedonistic pleasure to the voluptuous, amative man. He would not be controlled, nor could she so simply embarrass him.

She realized that she might be a vestal maiden on the brink of discovery. Sayuriama had long scorned feelings of love as she had been told she was their cause by so many men. An aching memory in the back of her head threatened to come forward but she refused to let it taint the moment.

She looked to her raised hand, shaking. She indeed was as austere in her romantic feelings as an unplucked flower. She felt the urge to learn just what in him made her seem so... so restrained. It would be like flying. Would his image match the voice? Or would she forever be disappointed by walking through this door?

She chided herself for the poetic feelings that made no sense. What was she doing, giving up her crusade to wound the man so easily?

Tsunada had looked on in surprise, wondering just what the silly girl was up too. A little listening at doors was not unusual to gauge the situation, but Sayuriama had seemed fixed in thought.

She reached out, putting a hand to the girl's forehead.

Sayuriama pushed it away, breaking from the trance. Feeling her heart settle its indecision she turned to Tsunada, taking on a cheeky look.

"Are you well?" Tsunada said quietly, taking care not to be heard. Sayuriama lifted a hand to open the door, taking a moment. Tsunada noted the quick hard tremor and frowned. She moved to leave, but Sayuriama shook her head.

"I'm... _beautiful_."

Then she slid open the door, all smiles.


	4. Scroll 4

When Madara woke, it was much to his own surprise, he was feeling better. He no longer felt that _edge. _Which was a great relief to many Uchiha, since nothing good came out of Madara's hunger for war.

Hayo, the _assistant_ the clan seniors encouraged him to take under his wing to do his menial work, had dared come and wake him. Which spoke badly about the question of his head, but well about his loyalty. Madara had let him stay because when it came to loyalty with no questions asked, Hayo was as good as it got at this point. Even if he was a little young to be at the top of the Uchiha intellectual prowess.

He would have preferred Setsuna infinitely more, but the man had duties that were actually important. None matched Izuna in wit or ability.

Hayo jauntily raised a hand, far to well rested. Deciding that he might as well get the damn meeting over with, he walked over, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Wait." Hayo nodded, standing outside the main clan building Madara resided in.

He re-entered his quarters. High collared shirt, black pants, and durable sandals; nothing fancy. He didn't have a mirror, so ran his long fingers through his hair, not thinking much about the black mane. His hair had grown wild, longer than most women's, and he refused to think too hard about it.

Nor did he bother with any of the more elaborate weapons on his stand, knowing they'd be more of a hassle than help. Strapping more than a few kunai on would be more than sufficient. No more were the days of prowling, needing to be fully armed at every moment.

That was the thought that almost derailed the morning meeting.

He nearly threw the table as his darker thoughts once again consumed him. The world as he knew- the one he loved- it was disappearing. The control he had seemed to be slipping away.

_It's all lies. None of it's real._

The thought stuck with him, like a sticky mess, as he headed to the exit of his rooms. But his attention diverted as he walked through the near-complete compound, eyes lingering on the clan members already up and working. There were still a few tents but most of the Uchiha Clan were housed in real structures, the building planned to end at the end of the month.

It made him feel mildly better, seeing the few clan members bow in deference to him, and he nodded back respectfully. They seemed to still _like _him. Mostly. He had listened to the clan and brought them here to safety. Their fathers, husbands, and children would no longer be fodder on the battlefield.

His discontent still bubbled dangerously near. How long could he last until it all went up in flames?

There was the usual sentry at the gate, bowing deeply at Madara, giving an impudent nod to Hayo who grinned. It was his brother, Madara noted with a pang.

"Boy, don't make me wait." He said sharply, making Hayo jump and refocus on walking behind Madara.

"Sorry, Clan Leader."

"Hmph."

The boy nodded respectfully, dark ash hair falling over his pale face, not surprised at the curt correction. The kid was more handsome than the typical Uchiha youth, but his subordinate had somehow managed to surprise even him.

Hayo, for some unknown reason, was dressed in what was an absurdly nice black silk kimono embroidered with the Uchiha Crest in red and whites. He did look more like a kid in his father's nicest robes. The well-concealed tapping of his fingers didn't hide the fact that Hayo clearly _was_ like one as well.

Madara even caught a whiff of something musky, making him raise a sarcastic brow. He shook the question away, deciding it wasn't worth the brainpower. What Hayo did usually made little sense to him.

Madara gave him something between a sneer and a resigned sigh of exasperation. Which made Hayo look relieved.

"Let's go."

"Yes, my Lord." Hayo followed as Madara exited the tall wooden gate that separated them from the city. Hayo struggled to keep up with Madara's long legs in his kimono, which Hayo knew was on purpose. Madara was giving him a different sort of punishment.

Madara knew Hayo couldn't see his smirk, but he likely could feel it.

But the smile wasn't just for his ridiculous puppy. Madara retained great pride in seeing the Uchiha crest blazed brightly on many shops and residences. It was something he lost as they wove further into a more tangled, chaotic menagerie of tents. Other clans didn't have the attention to order the Uchiha did. They were much wilder in their design, a mismatch of less powerful clans merging into The Village Hidden in the Leaves.

But still, there was a fine line, and he wondered if this continued if the Uchiha would lose the sense of themselves. He tried not to let Izuna's voice come to him.

_Betrayer, brother mine. Look how the Senju have let weaklings run wild. And how you stood by and joined with them._

He focused away, turning to the brisk morning. It would soon be hot, full of people, and madness, but now the morning was his. He put his hands behind his head, and took a deep breath in, for once, letting the wind carry his guilt off for a while. There was no reason to ruin a morning like this.

The sun inched its way over Hashirama's giant wall, hitting his wild onyx hair.

Hayo looked at the steady clan leader, walking a straight course in front of him. He seemed much more relaxed, more open than Hayo had seen in months. The Clan Leader was much taller than most of the men, and quite the imposing figure, even in simple dress. He seemed to fill the empty streets with his presence. He was a man who had the charisma to lead men when he was younger- a worthy man to follow, to die for. Hayo, like many other young Uchiha men, had wanted the attention of their Lord, his praise and trust.

Which was one of the reasons he begged for this position. He still looked up to him.

He looked over Madara with red eyes, taking in the calm state of his chakra. He needed to take a risk at some point, but also would rather not be dismissed or demeaned. He wasn't sure about Madara's mood, but he would likely be more furious at any surprises Hashirama would spring on him, especially ones that Hayo already knew of.

"Lord Madara." Madara slowed his grueling pace slightly, and Hayo caught up, standing side by side. This was as clear an indication he would get to talk. Madara didn't bother to turn his head.

"There is one matter, a detail, that is likely to come up." He said with a confidence he wasn't feeling.

Madara turned, narrowed his black orbs- a bad sign.

"A detail, boy? I hope it's not important." Hayo's insides shrunk at the menacing tone. Madara's grumbles were a good indication of how this would end. So he wasn't in the mood to entertain fools, but he hadn't thrown Hayo into a building yet. Not that he regularly threw clan members outside of training, but it had happened.

"Well, it's more of -" Madara cut in, and Hayo didn't even try to imagine what sort of death was in store for him.

"Was I supposed to bring a written report? Or formal wear?" The sarcasm was noted. Hayo shook his head quickly, very embarrassed. He hadn't meant to out-do Madara. Madara didn't stand for people who outdid him, and there were only a few who lived to tell the tale. Hayo admired the Senju brothers all the more for their courage to face Madara Uchiha in battle.

"No, no, my lord, I am dressed so that, well-" Madara rolled his eyes. His thoughts were clear, that he should finally choose a second-in-command and finally get rid of this one.

"Well then, don't waste my time."

Hayo sighed at the curt voice.

"It was brought up that the attendant from the Land of Whirlpools would attend. They arrived just a few weeks ago, and-"

"Heh boy. This is trivial. We were expecting them a long time ago." Madara would throw Hayo if that was it.

"And it is likely that Lord Hashirama 's younger sister will be there," Hayo added quickly, rubbing his kimono down nervously. At least it was out.

At this, Madara decided that maybe Hayo was not quite as stupid as he previously assumed, because this was interesting information.

He stopped fists clenching.

"So, Hashirama Senju has a sister," Madara stated before looking down at Hayo, who nodded and bowed in clear deference. "A sister." He repeated.

"Yes, Clan Leader."

Madara unclenched his hand and put it to his chin, turning this new report through his head as he scoured his brain for a time. Hashirama slipped or mentioned _anything_. Any reports, any whispers, anything to clue him into this information.

Nothing returned. A secret that the Senju Clan itself was so tight-fisted on that before this moment, he had heard nothing about her. The image of a woman-Hashirama came to his head, a disgusting thing. Or maybe a stern-looking chit with wild white hair.

Absurd, but at this point, of little consequence.

And so Hashirama had yet another card up his sleeve. As brainless as the man tended to come off as Madara knew Hashirama was no fool. A sister so well hid that not even he knew of her? The Uchiha intel during the war had been better than the Senju's, yet he had no notion of her. A sibling hidden away from war meant that sibling was likely a poor, or heaven forbid, _useless_ Shinobi.

Now that would be interesting. The Senju women were fierce and plentiful, unlike the Uchiha clan who didn't let their women fight, and had no reason to hide. It was certainly strange that Hashirama would produce a sibling now.

Hayo chimed in, clearly feeling a little more confident.

"I believe he wants to show you his trust."

Madara raised his chin, a mocking smile. "Any _Senju woman_ is likely a snake to the Uchiha, even a Senju princess." Hayo must not have registered his words.

"Yes, It's an honor, he hardly introdu-" Hayo continued, but Madara was once again in his thoughts.

The annoying Uzumaki clan could be turned to his advantage. There was some talk of Hashirama being interested in taking an Uzumaki bride. Perhaps this sister could be another small chink in the political armor Tobirama Senju was so carefully vested in.

Madara, rather darkly, mused what it would be like to make Tobirama feel what losing a sibling was like before returning to his newest factional machinations.

The Land of Whirlpool's held many ties to the Senju and had been one of the first to copy the Hidden Village System. They had actually managed to gain support from several feudal lords, securing funding and trade.

He needed more information before he could plan his next move.

"So tell me about the girl. This _mysterious _sister. I wasn't aware there were more Senju siblings." The words he inferred were clear to Hayo, thick with disdain.

"She just arrived with the envoy from the Uzumaki clan. It's clear that she and the Uzumaki woman are close." Madara's frown deepened.

"The Senju are allied with many weak clans."

"Is her presence a problem, Lord Madara?" Hayo asked as passively as he could. Madara put his arms to his side, undoing the wrinkling of his dark shirt. The wind blew gently on his deceptively placid face.

"I suppose not. It's not a meeting that will make my blood dance, but it will have to do."

They continued in silence, weaving through the city until they reached the Senju compound at another large corner. The Senju gate guards immediately recognized Madara, looking a bit nervous. He didn't change expressions, letting them lead him to one of many meeting rooms in the large building Hashirama resided. The hallways were still dark, the sun not reaching to hit the large screen walkways.

The guard opened a door, letting them pass into a room of excellent quality. Madara narrowed his eyes in the empty room.

Snorting in disgust he sat down onto one of the formal cushions that lined the rich mahogany table, letting his long legs crossed in front of him. He very much would have liked to have kicked his feet up on the wood and taken a nap at the Senju's expense. Hayo sat next to him, taking care not to wrinkle his outfit. He checked his reflection looking into the shiny tabletop.

Quick, a male servant brought them both tea, placing Madara's first. Hayo didn't really notice when his drink was placed and forgot to thank the man. Madara raised an eyebrow, put off by Hayo's vanity. Madara never thanked servants, it is a ritual that the subordinate did. He set his tea down after the servant left.

"What are you doing boy." Hayo looked up wide-eyed from the well-waxed table to his superior. He felt sweat build at the base of his neck, knowing that he was only a few stumbles away from having his face shoved through a wall.

"Clan Leader?"

Madara breathed in slowly and put his elbows to rest flatly on the table, chin on top of his interlaced fingers. His index finger was barely touching his chin, but it was tapping ominously.

"Why did you dress up like a _peacock_, and why do you_ keep examining yourself_ like your face is going to change in the next ten seconds?" He said slowly, trying to control himself. Hayo went bright red looking down at his apparel.

"I… and, I just think that this sort of meeting requires a more formal-"

"I remember receiving a report that you complained for over an hour to Akinobu about wearing formal clothes for meetings," Madara growled.

Hayo stuttered, trying to not make the situation worse. Finally, as if giving up, he sighed. In a low whisper, he muttered something.

Madara narrowed his eyes. He had heard, but he wasn't going to let this slip so easily. "Heh, you're whispering like a girl. Louder." He pulled up one of his hands and put it to his forehead, feeling as if a headache was coming from Hayo's stupidity.

"I wish to impress. The Senju sister." Hayo then put his face down in shame. Madara put down his hand and turned to look full on at his younger counterpart. When he realized he was being truthful, things clicked into place.

"You're trying to impress a _Senju_ woman?" Madara said, quite appalled.

As a handsome youth, Hayo never had any problem attracting girls from various clans. Madara snorted at Hayo's ridiculousness.

"Yes, Lord Madara."

"Would she be coming, _because it was suggested by us_?"

Hayo went red. "I… No sir."

"And you just… _agreed_. Why would you feel a girl was necessary at a diplomatic meeting?" Hayo looked up at Madara, almost like he was going to tell him something that Madara wouldn't comprehend.

"..."

Madara sneered.

"I can't wait to hear the changes that were made since I left. With men like you, I'm sure the Uchiha would gladly forfeit all of our priorities."

Hayo winced and was prepared for another one of Madara's berating speeches when the door slid open to reveal a grinning Hashirama. Behind him was a lovely red-haired woman, doubtless the Uzumaki emissary.

"Madara, my friend."

"Hashirama."

Madara noted that his mysterious sister did not accompany him, and Tobirama was late.

Hashirama looked over the room and smiled. Madara was obviously on his last nerve, and that made him feel better.

They should spar sometime soon.

He escorted Mito to a cushion, then walked to sit across Madara. He stretched out his hand. Madara took it hesitatingly and they both shook, exchanging greetings.

Hashirama was also dressed simply, comfortable in his wear.

His eyes widened when he looked over at Hayo. There was no reason for the poor boy to dress so finely. But it wasn't his concern, and he moved on.

He introduced Mito Uzumaki, and despite her polite manner, she was clearly wary of the Uchiha's. She was also more formally vested in her kimono, and Hayo Uchiha looked a little less awkward. Hashirama, being ever polite, commented on how well he looked when the door opened again.

By the time Tobirama came in, frown and all, he looked long-suffering. He took the seat next to Hayo, who looked startled. He coldly nodded towards the Uchiha party leaving the left seat across from him, who cooly returned a nod.

Hashirama remained jovial. "I'm afraid I've caused you trouble. I think my message was too early for both of us." Madara nodded slowly but gave the typical answer.

"Always too eager, Hashirama," Madara agreed, sending the elder Senju into a depression before he shook it off. "But I have news."

"Thank you, Madara. We could not do this without you." It was a genuine compliment that made both Uchiha uncomfortable.

"Of course. It's nothing for an Uchiha." He said, pushing his wild hair over his shoulder. The servant returned, bearing more steaming hot tea. The group began discussing Madara's journey.

It was as Madara had expected. His report of a stubborn Lord, Hashirama's overly optimistic assurance that all would be well, and growing irritation with how pointless it had turned out so far from the entire group. Then, the door opened. Madara turned, anticipation peaked. He looked over, to solve the curious puzzle of this Senju girl that had so charmed Hayo.

But alas, it wasn't her.

The old Uncle Senju had come, accompanied by a stab of disgust in Madara's abdomen. To his dismay, he sat next to him at the head of the table, giving a clueless, jovial pat on the Madara's back, which was returned with a sinister look.

"Off me old man." He growled.

"Don't be like that!"

Madara swore he saw a smirk on Tobirama's face.

Hashirama looked at his Uncle Hotaka, smiling at the old man's straightforwardness. He seemed to have brought more enthusiasm to the group even if tension radiated from Madara's gaze.

The old man's report was the same as his. Much to Madara's amusement, Hashirama quickly asked him what would be the best next step.

He was enjoying discussing the audacity of the Daimyo with a rapt audience, strategizing the pieces of a plan. Having control of the room pleased him. He especially was satisfied when he looked over at Hayo, who hadn't said a word, and saw him twiddling his thumbs.

No sister had graced them.

Madara turned back to answer Hashirama's questions.

"It wasn't as successful as I hoped, but I do think we managed to make him consider that the _repercussions_ of not deciding to give us his support wouldn't be very good," Madara added a darker tone than he usually would, but he wanted Hashirama to know that he had control of this matter.

The door once again opened, and Madara didn't bother turning. He expected a refill of tea from a servant but was surprised to see the room go silent as a feminine slipper tapped the ground.

Hashirama nodded the person in.

"_Sayuriama_. You're late."

Ah, the sister. A test was in order- _The 'Hayo' test_. Was the Senju sister worth getting dressed up for? Surely not, if she was related to Hashirama.

"_Hashirama_." Her tone made it clear she had plenty of pride, that her brothers were indulgent to her. As a favor to Hashirama, he would teach her to know her place among the table- at the bottom.

His face turned, dusky eyes ready to teach Hayo an unsaid lesson.

.

.

He felt an instantaneous shock go through him.

It was very clear to Madara just why the brat had wanted his sister there.


	5. UPDATE!

Hey, I don't have time to upload here, but the rest of the full story can be found at archive of our own under my same name, Gavorche_san!


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